


Unexpected Gifts

by Ladycat



Series: Married [9]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Cunnilingus, Desperation, F/M, always a girl Rodney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn't Radek.  Also, the door is now very locked.  Isn't it a good thing she keeps a pry bar here?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Gifts

Mer is working. Okay, she's always working, her marker scrawling symbols like beaches full of unending sand. There's always something else to do, to learn, some stupid order from superiors too moronic to understand what it is she does, let alone her inferior minions, constantly tugging on the skirts she's taken to wearing - and glaring, should anyone say a single word about it - when something goes wrong. The effort to save the world on a semi-consistent basis is something Mer absolutely begrudges, swiveling her chair so she can peer at the equation Radek snuck in while she was out. Because he's a devious little _weasel_ and also, hunh. Maybe right.

Mer taps the marker against her mouth. It feels off. Unscientific though it is, sometimes even she is reduced to instinctive reactions, a quiver in her belly that is _absolutely not_ the force, like her idiotic husband keeps joking. Just... something wrong. Like that first taste of citric acid on her tongue, a prickling sense of doom lowering over her. Although this isn't doom, really. Just... wrong. Not right.

Off.

"How did you come up with this?" Mer asks as the door opens. "This part, right here is - erk!"

It isn't Radek. Also, the door is now very locked. Isn't it a good thing she keeps a pry bar here?

"Did something happen?" she asks. "John? Is there a problem? World ending?"

John, shoulders back like a bull before a charge, advances on her. He doesn't say anything but Mer has become far more adept at reading expressions - well, okay, _his_ expressions - and that tight mouth usually means bad things. His eyes, though, they aren't the narrow masks of purpose she's used to in bad situations, when he retreats behind his rank, behind the skill she sometimes forgets he has in such abundence. His eyes _burn_ , green flame that crackles and flares until she's blinded, because that isn't a bad sign at all. That's - well. That's a sign, definitely.

The tie breaker will have to be the powerful way moves towards her - and then moves _her_. Mer squeaks, too surprised for more, as he hooks her underneath her armpits, hauling her up and onto the edge of her desk.

The edge of her _desk?_

Legs dangling like a little kids, Mer stares at her husband. She has no idea what the hell is going on, a situation she hates. John _knows_ she hates it.

"John," she snaps, "you're scaring me. Stop it. I hate when you do that. It means terrible things, usually, and we just had a very bad week so I would like _no_ terrible things for maybe five whole minutes and oh, my god."

John is on his knees, now. He's still looking at her even though her skirt gets in the way for a moment, when he flips it up.

"Oh, my god."

The sound of ripping cotton fills the air. Good thing she wore the boring kind, she thinks with only a little hysteria. John's gaze is so _focused_ , hungry and demanding as - as his mouth is, the moment he touches it to her.

" _Oh,_ my god."

He's relentless. Lips and tongue attack her center, licking over and over. She has a brief, _actually_ hysterical thought of John puffing on a gasoline hose, trying to make it fountain liquid. Which makes her a canister of gas, so no, except she does fountain for him, getting wet so fast it leaves her breathless. "John," she gasps, moans drawing his name out to something long, snaky and thick.

Like the fingers he slides into her, cruelly curving at the tip to rub fireworks into her vision. 

She cries out, legs tightening around his ears. He hates that, normally, complaining that he can't _see_ if she's trying to suffocate him to death. There's a whole comedy routine that follows, too. If only she could remember it. Remember...anything.

"God," she whispers. "Oh, God, John."

She pulls his hair. Kicks his back, and calls him all sorts of broken names. None of it makes a dent, though, as John licks and sucks at her clit, fingering her a furious pace in tandem. In rhythm, even, an usual event that Mer can't even comment on. She can't talk, can't _think_ , as he spurs heat in a tight, needy ball between her hips, robbing her of breath the way he robs her of loneliness, of uncertainty, and beds that are always cold.

She never once says no, she's not in the mood. There are no headaches between them. Need is cruel, a cracked whip that spurs them to always want when the other does, when _they_ do, a whole that Mer thinks she will never understand, the equation that makes it work as elusive as the Universal Theory. A pipe dream to explain the unexplainable.

Slowly, she stops worrying about finding it.

Slowly, John licks her from ass to clit, then again. His eyes are locked on hers, now. Still demanding, still so hungry that her warning shakes provide no warning at all. She's drowning in that gaze, the way he works her hard and fast.

Orgasm leaves her blind, biting her own wrist around a scream.

There's no chance to calm down. Still twitching from aftershocks, John stands. Strips - or rather, shoves pants and underwear down long enough that his cock can rise up, thick and proud. She gets only a second to admire it before he slams into her.

It's a rut, by now. Hard, fast, penetrating thrusts that make her scream again, blood salty against her tongue. She clutches at his shoulders, trying to hitch herself closer to find that magic angle - 

"Fuck," he hisses in her ear. "Fuck, Mer, baby."

Her pussy contracts, demanding in her own right. "Yeah." Panting, eager, she locks her legs behind his ass and bites his mouth instead of her wrist. "Come _on_."

And he does. So immediately it's like she ordered it, even if human bodies don't work that way. He comes hard, scraping his mouth along her cheek to find hers, kissing and kissing and kissing her while his orgasm spurs a second one for her and they knot together in a gasping, surging whole.

"So." The panties are a complete loss. There's an unopened package in her closet, though. She'll try to get them once she can move.

Maybe next century.

"So?" John's voice always sounds smoother after sex, all the edges sanded away. "So what?"

"So what _brought that on_ , maybe?" she asks. "Not that I'm saying no to afternoon sex, but you usually call first."

"Do I - "

"Don't be stupid."

"That's what I thought."

"You thought you could be a smug male and not tell me why you barged in here to have your wicked way with me?"

The grin starts small. John prefers half-smiles and closed-mouths echos of happiness and pleasure, especially when they're in public. Despite the door that hid nothing of their escapes, because Mer hears about how it doesn't after every 'escape', this isn't public.

So that twisted little grin grows ivy-fast, lips parting to show gleaming white teeth and the kind of crazy, bizarrely innocent joy that Mer never thought John was capable of, back when he was the newest in a long line of annoying grunts.

"Yes," she says, her own grin just as wild, just as hungry. "I saw it too. Only I was going to _wait_ so we could watch it _together_."

'It' being the video her so-helpful brother thought she might enjoy. The one he swore up and down he absolutely did not send to anyone but her.

She's going to kill him. Then she's going to make John pick out something not particularly offensive to send to him.

Speaking of John, the grin gets even more blinding as he rolls on top of her. It's not much of a pounce, but she laughs and feels pounced as kisses her soundly. "Suddenly feel the need to take the afternoon off," he drawls. "How about you?"


End file.
